


The Amazing Adventures of Gay-bi-wan Kenobi and Bicurious Lad

by Merlin Missy (mtgat)



Category: Askewniverse
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Roommates, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtgat/pseuds/Merlin%20Missy
Summary: Banky and Hooper live together a lot.





	The Amazing Adventures of Gay-bi-wan Kenobi and Bicurious Lad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoggledMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoggledMonkey/gifts).



Banky has lived with Holden since they left school, and he's got nowhere else to go. He washes up on Hooper's doorstep with his clothes in two suitcases and his magazine and comics collection in six boxes. He stopped by on his way over, shipping the rest back to his mom. She is not going to want to store them, but Banky doesn't give a fuck. He kept the ones he can't bear to lose when she dumps the rest at the Salvation Army or in the trash and that's gotta be enough. His life has ended.

Hooper takes a long time to walk down to the door of his building.

Banky expects him to come out with something sarcastic. On his way over, he practically heard Hooper say, "Girl, you look like something the cat wouldn't bother dragging in." He watches Banky for a moment through the glass door, then he opens the door, waiting for Banky to lug everything inside.

"You're not going to help?" Banky huffs, lifting the second to last box.

"I'm holding the door open. You're free to walk out."

Right. Hooper does accede to carry the lighter of the two suitcases up the stairs. His building's elevator broke down in the 80s, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with what the two of them and Holden were doing at the time. Banky crashes onto the memory of good times with Holden like running face-first into a window. It hurts.

When all his shit is upstairs, Banky shoves it all into a pile in a sad heap beside the couch along the wall under Hooper's one Keith Haring print. The couch, and the print, are tucked back in a little nook that can be hidden behind a Japanese-print screen. The rest of his walls are covered in framed comics, pictures of his mom and dad, and a few knockoff pieces of Asante art. Hooper would probably like to think of his furniture and decorations as eclectic but mostly they're nice enough shit from the Goodwill around the corner.

He sits on the couch he's going to be surfing for the next whenever.

"Drink?" Hooper's already halfway to the little kitchen.

"Sure. Scotch?"

"Right." Hooper brings him a cheap beer. Banky knows he's got better stuff in his cabinet. He also knows he's living on Hooper's tolerance right now. Hooper opens another crap beer for himself. "Cheers."

"Yeah, cheers." It's cold. That's something. "Where's Robert?"

Holden lets out a long-suffering sigh. "He's got a gig tonight."

Banky can't remember the last time Robert showed up for one of Hooper's convention appearances, or bartending stints, or anywhere else. He's only met the guy three times, all of them here. He lets his mouth dig him into trouble again. "I hope you don't think I came over to keep you warm while he's out."

Normally, giving Hooper this kind of shit would get him shit right back. Instead, Hooper fixes him with a flat, disappointed look. "When you're ready to stop the overcompensating homophobia, let me know, Princess."

Banky rolls his eyes. "I'm not gay, Hooper. That was one weird night dealing with Holden's shit, and we never fucked."

"Uh huh." Hooper sits back and drinks his beer. Banky steels himself, ready for Hooper to launch into Gay 101, informing Banky of everything he thinks he knows that's he actually wrong about being a homo. Instead, Hooper doesn't say a word. After a while, the silence grates, and Banky scrapes up the words inside him he should have said when he got here.

"Thanks for letting me stay."

"You're welcome."

"It's only until I find a place of my own."

"It better be." But he's smiling as he says it.

* * *

It's been almost a year since that night with Holden and Alyssa and all the shit coming out between them, and Banky isn't dealing with the anniversary very well. Holden sold him the rights to the book, fine, great, but the stories don't flow. He's like a circuit with one end cut, and no matter how many times he tries to shove his wire into a new slot, he comes up with no sparks.

That goes for his sex life, too.

Katrina moved in with him when he got his own place, off Hooper's couch and into a little studio back in Jersey City. She moved out two months later. Michelle lasted a week, and there were three Jennys he can't quite tell apart now.

Hooper meets up with him for drinks now and then. They argue over comics, because it's easier than arguing over the problems in their lives.

"It is canon that Kon-El has two daddies."

"Superman did not fuck Lex Luthor to make Kon-El!"

They don't talk about Katrina or Michelle or the Jennys, and they don't talk about the nineteen-year-old dancer Robert started fucking three months before he moved out. Hooper can swing the rent on his place alone. Banky's not sure if he can, not with the payout he gave Holden. He buys another overpriced beer, the good shit, and talks Hooper down about cloning.

When their ire is spent and the beers are low, Hooper says, "You ever think about moving back into the city? I've still got that couch."

"You need the extra rent, you mean."

"I don't need it. I can find enough extra jobs to cover. I was thinking about your charity case ass."

"My rent is half what yours is. You ought to come across the bridge."

The words are out before he can pull them back, maybe thanks to the beer, maybe thanks to the empty place Holden left.

Hooper watches him. "I know you're not serious." He leans back. "We've already established you can't handle my extra masculinity around for long."

"I can handle your gay ray without succumbing, thanks."

"I doubt it. But no. I like my view, and I love my commute."

Banky finds he's a little disappointed. Living with Hooper was fun. Not as much fun as living with Holden but not as bad as he feared. He misses having someone to bounce off who gets him.

"Well, when you're ready to stop watching the hobos in the alley shit into dumpsters, let me know." He's not sure why the words sound so familiar, then remembers the things Hooper said way back when.

* * *

When he moves in six months later, Hooper doesn't show up with suitcases. He rents a van and moves all his stuff himself. "Like a fucking adult," he says. "Now help me get this stuff upstairs."

Hooper has a ton of shit, but Banky helps, and between them, it only takes an hour to unload the van so Hooper can return it. By dinner, Hooper's stuff is nudging Banky's out of the way. The Asante art pieces look good on the walls.

"Not the Keith Haring," says Banky. "I have a limit to the amount of gay shit on my walls I can tolerate."

Hooper takes a long look around. "I see you haven't reached it yet." He walks around the framed comics from Banky's collection. He ticks on his fingers. "Gay. Gay. Very gay. Writer was gay. Artist was gay. Also gay."

Banky groans. "You're going to ruin every comic I've ever read, aren't you?"

"I like to think of myself as expanding your mental horizons." He looks at another cover. "Gay."

"There is more to comics than whether or not Robin sucks Batman's cock!"

"Oh I know. You have to consider which Robin, and who's sucking Superman's cock."

Banky groans even louder. "I am already regretting this."

* * *

Studios are shit for privacy. They can set up screens and pull curtains but the truth is, he's sleeping in the same room as Hooper, and no matter how discreet either is, they listen to each other jerk off a couple of times a week. He hasn't been this embarrassed about masturbating since he was fourteen and his mom walked in on him.

Worse, he's sure Hooper knows what he's thinking about with his dick sliding through his own slicked-up hand.

He didn't used to be like this. Banky has fucked a lot of girls in his day, something Hooper has informed him is part of his own denial. Holden said the same thing after Alyssa got into his head, and oh GOD Holden. Banky makes a mess on his stomach again, hoping he's been quiet and knowing he hasn't been quiet enough.

Banky likes girls. He likes fucking them, can deal with dating them even though they're all insane. He's not gay. But the last several times he's fucked his hand, he's been thinking about Superman, and about Batman, and about Holden. He's starting to wonder if he's bi.

"Okay," he says with a deep breath the next morning. He's waited patiently until Hooper finished the second cup of coffee he needs not to be bitchy. It's time. "I have a question for you."

"No, I can't help you with your wardrobe unless you let me have a flamethrower."

Banky points at him. "Proof I'm not gay. I have no fashion sense."

Hooper snorts. "Spoken like a true bear." He pours his third cup. "What's your question?"

"If," Banky says, "and I'm not saying I am, this is purely hypothetical, but if I was bi, how would I know?"

Hooper blinks at him slowly. "Bi? As in bisexual?"

"No, as in bicycle. Yes, as in bisexual. How would I know?"

Hooper stirs some sugar into his coffee. "Do you want to have sex with women?"

"As often as possible."

"Do you want to have sex with men?" He picks up his cup and takes a long sip, waiting for Banky to answer.

"I don't know. I was ready to fuck Holden that night. Maybe?"

"Then maybe you should try it out and see." He takes a step back as Banky eyes him. "Not, I hasten to add, with me. I have no intention of initiating you into the company of men. I'll be here as your Gay-bi-wan Kenobi. Who was, I should mention, desperate to tap that young white boy's ass."

Banky sighs. Of course Hooper's going to ruin Star Wars, too. "Luke Skywalker isn't gay."

"Honey. He fought with his dad, was hung up on his sister, and tried to nail her boyfriend. That is the life story of half the young men in New York." Hooper snaps his fingers. "I know who I'm introducing you to." He goes to his side of the apartment, digging for his little pink book. "Desmond. He has legs to die for, and he's into the comics side of the Force so you won't bore him. You can take him out for a spin."

Banky wipes his mouth with his hand. "You're fixing me up with one of your exes?"

"No, I'm fixing you up with one of my rejects. Tonight. Wear something better than that."

* * *

Desmond is into Marvel, but who isn't these days? He talks Banky's ear off about the X-Men. He's seen Bluntman and Chronic on the shelves but never picked it up. "I'm not really into drug chic," he says over his drink.

"It's an aesthetic," Banky says, uncomfortable. "Hey, this is fun, but are we going to fuck soon?"

Desmond fixes him with a glare. "Excuse me?"

"Don't get me wrong. I could talk about Professor X all night, but Hooper said you move pretty fast." He stammers. "I haven't really done anything with a guy before. I was going to once with my best friend, but the chick said no. Do we talk a lot first? When do we figure out which one is the bitch?"

So Banky goes home wearing Desmond's drink, and he walks in to Hooper's unamused face as he gets off the phone with his now ex-friend.

"Are you seriously this fucked in the head?"

Banky throws himself onto the couch. "Like I know how gay guys date. All I asked was … "

"You asked when you got to figure out which one was the bitch. Did you ever stop to think that, oh look who I am talking to. No. You didn't. You upset a perfectly nice young man."

"Who you wouldn't fuck either."

Hooper sits next to him. "He's boring."

"Exactly! I love comics, but I wanted to get to the sex already. Jesus."

"Also gay."

"Hooper!"

Hooper kisses him. It's quick, and dirty, not at all the way Banky has ever imagined when Hooper took his turn in Banky's masturbation fantasies. Electricity shoots through him, the same way it did when Holden kissed him and ruined his whole life. He never felt this kissing a woman. Not once. Oh God, he is gay.

Then Hooper sits back. "You are a stupid, selfish manchild and I don't know why I bother with you."

Breathing hard, Banky says, "Tell me something I don't already know."

"I tell you things you don't know constantly. You don't listen, and you don't learn."

"Learn what? That you want me to like dick as much as you do?"

"You are never going to like dick as much as I do. I want you to figure out how much dick you do like if only so you'll shut up about your bisexual crisis on infinite repeat and go back to being whiny, dull, whitebread Banky who thinks fart jokes are the height of humor."

"A good fart joke is always the height of humor."

"Now I know you're bi. You are equally unappealing to either sex."

Banky sits back and sighs. "Help me, Gay-bi-wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

"Fine, but you are going to listen to me." Hooper stands.

"Wait, what?"

"Come on. We're doing this in my bed. It's more comfortable. If I have to gag you, I will." He takes Banky's hand and pulls him up.

"But … "

"Do you want to have sex or not?"

The answer to this question has always been yes. It was yes with every girl who ever brought it up. It was yes when Holden asked. He looks at Hooper.

"You know I'm going to fuck this up, right?"

"I've met you. I know." He's still holding Banky's hand. He doesn't look eager, more resigned to having to teach the new guy everything from scratch.

"You don't want to fuck me. So why are you helping me?"

"Because you're my friend and I love you. Coming?"

Banky lets him pull him to his feet. Impulsively, he reaches in for a kiss. There's that electricity again as their mouths touch, and Hooper breathes into him, his pulse jumping under Banky's hand.

It's strange, but not as strange as he thought it would be. They've lived together on and off. He's seen Hooper naked. He's never kissed him this way, never dreamed how Hooper's neck would taste kissing his way down. He shivers when Hooper touches him, and shivers more when his own hand finds Hooper's dick, stroking him. It's like he's a virgin all over again, only this time he's the one biting his lip as a finger works into him, followed by a slick condom-covered cock. He doesn't know how to react to the tight pain, but Hooper whispers to him, soothing him. He relaxes just enough, and the pain is gone.

All Banky knows is that this is good, and all he can feel is right, and all he can say is "Yes" and "Please" and "God!" All he understands is that the soft whine he's heard Hooper make these many nights is the same sound he makes as he comes now.

"Well?" Hooper asks a while later when they're both breathing normally. Banky's stomach is covered with his own jizz. The condom is tied off on the floor somewhere.

"I still don't know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sorry." He turns and smiles at Hooper. "We'll have to try again to be sure. Maybe a few times."

Hooper smiles back. "Maybe we will."


End file.
